Of Hunters and Warriors
by Thraus
Summary: The struggle between Ozpin and Salem, the battle for the survival of civilization, has continued for many lifetimes unchanged and leading to the inevitable climax. How would a sudden arrival of a pair of unique individuals impact the story told? Age-old beliefs will be challenged, after all, what makes one a hero or a villain? Rated M for violence, language and 40K background.
1. Prologue teaser

**Prologue  
**

* * *

There are constants, applicable all across time and space No matter the universe, no matter the planet or the species inhabiting it, one question remains the same, _"Are we alone in amongst the stars?"_ Remnant was no exception to such a rule for the psyche of the humans that walked upon its surface was just the same as in many other universes. There were always those select few who could not settle with the status quo of the unknown and looking ever forward yearning to know more.

Many debates and arguments were held. Many ideas proposed and disregarded. An untold number of arguments tackled the form of the first contact with intelligent otherworldly life. Who could tell what sort of devastating, or perhaps beneficial impact would it have on the civilization that barely managed to hold onto a few scattered city-fortresses in a deadly ecosystem of the hostile world. Most agreed unanimously that no matter the form the contact would take, one thing would remain undisputed, Remnant would be forever changed from that point onward.

Yet, when the fateful moment came at last it passed and the celestial object called Remnant by its inhabitants remained the same as it was before. No great schism tore the society apart, no world-shattering cataclysm did end the known world. The only unexpected event of note for the people of Remnant that day was nothing more than a train delay between the cities of Vale and Vacuo. The sudden and brief tear in the very fabric of reality had been observed by none and the only evidence of its very presence was the soaked and shivering pile of cloth and flesh along with the unmoving mountain of slate-grey ceramite.

In the end, both sides of the argument could not foresee the outcome of the first contact with life from beyond Remnant. The cities and their people continued to live as they always did and the civilization remained unchanged. Yet, from that moment those people were not alone. Something else was there, two outlanders, children of unreachable and unfathomable worlds. One, a descendant of defiant martyrs standing guard at the shores of hell, the other a legacy of a union of two planets, imbued with arcane knowledge and bound by the myth and honour.

Forevermore, the scions would leave their mark upon Remnant. The daughter of the adamantium bastion and the son of winter and wolves were there to stay.

* * *

**AN: Greetings reader. I have been playing with a certain idea for a while now and despite my continuing work on other matters I have managed to advance this particular one so far as to feel comfortable to post this prologue. Do not expect regular updates, there are far too many other more important matters for that.  
I hope you have enjoyed and see you next time. Constructive criticism is more than welcome.**


	2. Chapter 1 - The Arrival

**CHAPTER I**  
**The Arrival**

* * *

**AN: I feel like I need to do this heads-up warning. Even though this story is written in er-form it is still a subjective view of the character in focus and thus their point of view. More info at the end of the story. Keep in mind that comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.**

* * *

**Four years ago**

* * *

The planet was dying. A homeworld of untold millions of martyrs buckled at long last under the fury of those who sought to destroy its people. They endured every onslaught and in the fated last fit of rage, the one who sought their death decided to rid himself of the entire planet.

The wind howled with tortured despair that echoed in the hearths of the massed armies rallying at the mustering points carrying out the last orders of their Lord Castellan, to abandon the battle, their homes and evacuate into the icy blackness amongst the stars. With heavy hearts they carried out their orders, abandoning their homes and in many cases even their trusted vehicles in order to reach the evacuation point.

Then they watched powerless as the lander that was meant to ferry them away lifted off on a commissar's orders with only a handful of ShockTroopers on board. They were left behind. Many would let their emotions run wild and unchecked, would despair and curse those who left them behind, but not them, not the Cadians. Those left behind watched as the lander disappeared among the clouds while the remaining officers tried their best to organise the amassed troops in some form of coherent formation. Hell itself was coming for them and they could not wait.

They were sons and daughters of Cadia, they were guardsmen, the Hammer of the Emperor. The planet broke before they did. As one Cadians decided that if they were to die then they would die standing and spitting their defiance into the faces of their foes. What was one moment a gathering of those left behind within a moment turned into a bastion of martyrs.

Before the legions of hell could come and before the end could claim the remains of more than twenty regiments of Cadian shock troops the salvation arrived from the heavens. Six bulky amalgamations of adamantium and ceramite still steaming from the heat of planetary re-entry and powered my roaring plasma drives dived headlong to the surface and screeched to a halt in the hearth of Cadian formation. Their ramps dropped down even before they fully stopped and giants among men leapt out as if without a care for their own lives. Astartes, the Emperor's angels of death. Their battle plate bore the same slate grey tones as the transports.

Every Cadian knew the familiar shapes of four Thunderhawks by heart but only the priests from martian brotherhood could possibly hope to recognise the shape of the venerable Stormbird of old. While most of the ceramite clad giants made their way to the outermost cadian lines few searched the crowd for the senior command. Colonel Stranski shook off her circle of medicae and subordinates to stand face-to-chest plate with the Astartes in the more ornate battle plate, ornate armour contrasting with a weathered face of the wearer.

Despite the limp in her step, blood on her face and cuirass or the stump of her arm ending at elbow Colonel Talia Kerinski stood will all the regality the rank asked of her. "My lord, Colonel Talia Kerinski of the 86th Armoured regiment, the most senior officer left," she introduced herself with pride. The Astartes inclined his head in greeting, "I am Thyr Skjaldsson, jarl of the tenth great company of Vlka Fenryka."

"My lord, with the utmost respect, I must ask, why are you here?" she asked, her voice strong despite the injuries weighing down on her body. The space marine was about to answer her when Talia's strength failed her at last and her leg buckled leaving her at the mercy of gravity, or it would have if not for the massive hand that held her standing.

Wolf closed the distance within the blink of an eye which took the leg to fail her. He growled in a firm voice, "We have come for your people colonel Stranski, you have fought valiantly as was asked of you but the Allfather still has need of you."

* * *

**Present, Beacon Academy**

* * *

Red and brown leaves slowly fluttered as the breeze blew through the forest. Tall green grass wove back and forth in the gentle caress of the wind. Birds sang to the first rays of sunrise and soon the forest roused itself from the sleep of the night. Rays of sunshine bathed cliffs towering over the forest in hues of morning bronze.

Far above the forest, the lone tower stood as a crown of the castle standing proudly above the surrounding forests and city below. Upon a very top of the tower was an office. Thanks to the large windowed walls it had a breathtaking view of the landscape below.

Lone figure with silver hair stood calmly gazing through the windows. A steaming cup in hand, the headmaster of one of the four great huntsman academies pondered of his long struggle with his former beloved. Pre-arranged pairings of the new students hung displayed on one of the hard-light displays of his work desk. Soon to be made reality during the upcoming initiation later that morning. Another display showed the view from a multitude of hidden cameras scattered throughout Emerald Forest. There was little to see, yet. Droplets of dew forming on the leaves and animals taking advantage of this calm, only to scatter as the occasional Grimm appeared. The main and only planned event today was the initiation.

A chime sounded from behind his back and elevator doors leading to his personal realm opened, admitting in the Deputy-headmistress, a stern woman complimenting his public relaxed persona. "Good morning Professor," she greeted. Ozpin turned his back to the view he has been taking in. "Good morning Glynda," he replied. "Here are the pairs as I have chosen them," said Ozpin and pushed a tablet across his desk. Glynda wordlessly took the tablet. "I will prepare the catapults," she stated after perusing it. The pairs still were not set in stone, they could only influence the outcome. Only time would tell. With the tabled in hands, Glynda Goodwitch turned and left Ozpin to his musings. He laced his fingers and rested his chin. This year might show some potential, he thought to himself.

* * *

**Vicinity of Vale**

* * *

Arska Porelska was many things. A fiery-spirited traveller was not one of them.

Former kasrkin-trainee Arska Porelska, assigned to Cadian 188th Heavy Infantry Regiment after the Fall of Cadia awoke with a gasp for breath worthy of a drowning man. Her mind was temporarily muddled and unable to form coherent thoughts. She shot up from the prone position in the softest grass in the galaxy. Her helmet and rebreather slowly fell from her head thanks to the torn buckle which was supposed to hold them firmly in place. It landed with a silent thud in the grass behind her. It was only after a few rapid mouthfuls of breath that the lifetime of training and iron-willed discipline kicked-in. Dizziness was gone in a moment, replaced by the surgically focused mind of a lifetime of training. Once more in control of her mental faculties, she rolled sideways into a crouch. Shoulder braced against a tree and a Las-Pistol in hand she observed her surroundings.

All around her she could see tall green trees and shrubberies below them, a nightmare scenario of blind spots. She herself was crouched on the edge of a meadow, tall grass near the middle still bearing the flattened outline of her body where she laid scant few moments ago. Helmet swaying back and forth where it fell on the ground, rebreather and goggles next to it. A short distance away laid an object half hidden by the grass. With a sudden sinking feeling, she realised what it was. Her left hand left the pistol and fumbled behind her back, it returned forth firmly gripping disconnected umbilical power cord of her hot-shot hellgun. "Frak," she cursed below breath. Helmet and a rebreather could be easily replaced, Kantarel-Pattern Hot-Shot Hellgun less so.

She waited a minute with her breath held, expecting an ambush. Her violet eyes darting from one end of the meadow to the other one, scanning for and a sign of trouble. Nothing happened, apart from a single fluffy bunny hopping out from the bush. It almost ended burnt to a crisp by her pistol. It stared at her for a moment and then hopped back out of her sight. She grimaced, threw her eyes left and right once more, quickly holstered her pistol and outright exploded into motion. She lunged towards her wayward weapon, one hand grabbing her helmet and rebreather as she passed by, the other firmly taking hold of the grip of her hellgun. She didn't stop until reaching the shrubbery on the opposite side of the meadow and then flattening herself prone on the ground.

Adrenaline caused by the strange situation she found herself in and paranoia flooding her body as she waited for any sign of reaction to her gamble. Like before, nothing happened and she began thinking that maybe she was truly alone and there was no ambusher waiting to strike her. Not willing to risk the possibility of being wrong, she firmly secured her helmet to the webbing on her chest along with rebreather wishlist silently cursing the strap to the deepest corners of warp. Once that was done, she reconnected the hellgun to the cord leading to the backpack-mounted power generator. She continued down the list drilled into her head during training on Prosan Hostile Environment Training Grounds as part of the Kasrkin training before her entire class was abruptly recalled back due to impending Chaos attack on Cadia, her home.

She didn't follow the list to the letter, it was impossible to achieve that. With her rebreather useless she was forced to hope there were no malignant particles in the air she breathed. And if there were then she knew that it was most likely too late for her by now even if the rebreather had worked. Armed with such knowledge, she instead focused on raising her survival chances by the use of camouflage. As the old saying went, the enemy can't fight what he can't see. Her dark green coloured and brown-streaked armour plates blended well enough with the surroundings. It was her fatigues underneath it which troubled her. The drab khaki colour was far too much out of place in her opinion.

She unfurled the dark-green sleeping blanked which she carried strapped on underneath her backpack meticulously dirtied it with mud and branches and slung it around her back like a cloak in order to hide her fatigues from behind. She continued by smearing her fatigues and face with dirt and mud all over. Her dark-ashen hair reaching to her shoulders usually were hidden by her helmet. With only a momentary hesitation she scooped another handful of dirt and mud and covered her hair. The minor discomfort it caused her was well worth the increased survival chances.

Once she was satisfied with her efforts she slowly backed from the meadow and silently stalked away. Carefully moving from cover to cover and keeping her head on the swivel she had no destination in mind. Right now Arska had deemed it most pressing to set as much distance between herself and the meadow just to be sure. Finding shelter or hideout could wait for later, then she could also devote more of her mind to figuring out what in the Emperor's name was happening.

* * *

**Beacon Cliffs**

* * *

What Ozpin saw on the cameras caught his attention. And that of his colleague. Glynda was far too much drawn in her observations, judging by her intense stare on the tablet, to voice anything, she would voice her complaints later. A lone girl had appeared in the middle of Emerald Forest out of thin air. Her clothing was peculiar but it was her eyes which intrigued him most. The purple irises were glowing with soft violet light.

In all his years Ozpin had never seen such eyes. He knew full well of the unique appearances of many people of Remnant, yet this girl was very much, unlike anything he had seen before. Her attire consisted of some form of green-hued fatigues underneath heavy-looking armour plates. Not even Ironwood's soldiers had armour that bulky. It didn't take much for Ozpin to see the bearing of a soldier, a scarred and a fearful one judging by her actions.

Glynda finally came to and jumped into his observations with a knee-jerk reaction, "We have to stop the initiation." As always the responsibility for the school made itself clear in her decisions. "Do we?" countered Ozpin. Unlike Glynda, he was not particularly worried over the safety of the students. It was true that there were a few interesting individuals this year but in the long view, he could afford the risk. Judging by the look on her face Glynda clearly disagreed. "We do not know who is that! How did she get there without our knowledge? What if…" she tried to argue but Ozpin was not in the mood.

"Glynda is this single girl truly more dangerous than any of the Grimm in the forest as to warrant such action, not to mention the various complications stemming from such action," calmly reasoned Ozpin. His words seemed to have their desired effect as Glynda visibly calmed down but she still seemed unhappy. "No, not likely," she reluctantly admitted. Ozpin inclined his head as if in agreement. "Should she prove to be a threat then I assure you she will be stopped," he added in order to placate the worried teacher.

Glynda firmly believed in Ozpin's experience and wisdom and as such was willing to stay her hand. She could not be certain that some small crucial detail did not slip her attention and given her trust in the man she relented and let the events play out without her direct intervention. "Very well," she gave in with a sigh. With Ozpin rarely lifting a finger, there was already far too much on her plate. Mere thinking about it reminded her that she would have to collect the first arriving students. She checked the scroll, "The students should reach the temple within minutes." It seemed Ozpin was far too taken by his scroll to pay her any more attention and so it was up to her to make sure the ceremony would go without a hitch.

As the distance from her landing spot grew, her fraying nerves calmed down. Arska lowered her guard a bit. Still careful not to make a sound and keeping a keen eye on her surroundings, she no longer moved from cover to cover with her hellgun sweeping back and forth. Instead, she simply walked more or less in a straight line with her hellgun held across her chest.

After walking through the forest for nearly an hour she had started to think it deserted. Apart from a few animals that ignored her as she passed by there were no other living beings. She also couldn't find any signs of civilization and no one had responded to her hails when she tried with her com-beat. Just as she had started to form an idea of forever being stuck alone on some forgotten rock the first signs of intelligent life came. It was the sound of a series of explosions along with indistinct yelling. Could have been gun-shot or far away artillery fire, it was impossible for her to tell.

Arska hit the dirt without a second thought and went very still. It had started with yelling, then the series of explosions and from there onwards she could hear varying sounds without pause. Whoever was the cause of it was clearly either incredibly dumb or feeling far too much secure to be making so much noise. She pondered on the course of action she should take. Sounds were clearly caused by humans, even though she could not understand most of the words or hear them clearly, the intonation and familiarity were clear. It didn't fit the Orks or the crazed maddening screaming of cultists. Admittedly she didn't hear any Eldar or Tau speak, yet at the same time, she didn't think of them as the source. Far too much out of character for them from stories which fellow guardsmen told her.

The possibility of the hostile encounter was indeed great but on the other hand, there was a chance they could be friendly. In that case, Arska could get down to the business of finding a way back to her regiment. The fact that she had no idea how to explain the situation to commissar or Emperor forbid an inquisitor did come to her, but such a line of thought was promptly shot down. It was a problem to be solved later. Having weighed both sides of the coin she came to the conclusion that the benefits outweigh the risks of the contact.

Her tempo changed once more. Now she was once more on high alert, her head swinging left and right searching for the foe, hellgun braced on her shoulder and ready to fire on a moments notice. Following the sounds to their source, Arska came across the large open area in the middle of the forest. Spotting a movement in the corner of her eye she carefully laid down on the edge of the clearing, hidden from view by a particularly thick bush.

The clearing was long and narrow. In front of her, it went slightly downhill from her position, which gave Arska a clear view of the area. On the very bottom stood a decrepit circular stone ruin with some kind of pedestals arrayed in a crescent positioning shielded from the forest by half-fallen walls. Clearing continued further uphill but she could not see where it lead to as her field of view was obscured few hundred meters away by the top of the incline.

With the magnifying scope of her hellgun, she carefully observed two figures which strolled out of the forest on the other side without any care whatsoever. Arska was hit by a wave of conflicting emotions the moment she saw them. She was relieved beyond any measure that they were both human and without marks of Chaos. Yet, at the same time, she felt sadness and grief for a brief time she entertained the idea that perhaps this was her Emperor given afterlife and she was back on her homeworld and it's thick pine forests which she always had a fondness for, even if her only time spent there had been as part of Cadian Youth Army training exercises. Those moments of calm when they were told to dig in and wait for another regiment to attack had been some of her most treasured memories, nothing but forest and her friends. The two individuals shattered that illusion

Arska swiftly ended that train of thought before she could drown herself in grief every Cadian felt since the destruction of their home. She may have been training for Kasrkin but even for all their ingrained iron will and unflinching resolve, they were still human and felt the emotions just like any other. Now she was alone, her home along with friends in those memories no more, all of it burnt to ash, she would never graduate and no-one will ever name her a kasrkin.

Upon a closer look, the two humans turned out to be young girls, younger than Arska. In her opinion, both of them wore ridiculously stupid clothing which made it more than abundantly clear that they were civilians. No soldier of the Imperial guard would be caught dead in such clothes, not even the Scintillan Fusiliers, and their ridiculous their hairstyles were also a far cry from the regulation approved practicality. The young woman with flowing blonde mane wore brown jacket size too small, exceedingly short shorts and knee-high boots. The other was a little better with a black vest over white shirt along with tight black pants and her dark hair could have been shorter in Arska's opinion. Their excessive amounts of exposed flesh made Arska pity them. To her, it almost begged for pointless death by ricochet, shrapnel or a glancing hit.

She silently watched as they walked straight into the temple without any care given to their surroundings. Arska thought that she could have been standing in the open, wave the standard of her regiment and they would still not see her. It filled her with disappointment. She watched as they rummaged around the temple and lost a sight a few times as they passed by the few still standing walls. Then they went to the pedestals and Arska couldn't see what they were doing there. She needed a better vantage point. Despite the obliviousness of the natives so far she was unwilling to break cover until she could ascertain they truly posed her no threat.

Yang Xiao Long stepped out from the forest and onto the clearing. So far the thrill-seeker had enjoyed herself greatly. If only she could find her little sister, then this day would be all but perfect. She looked at the valley below. Situated right in the middle stood circular ruins of a stone temple, broken and decrepit only a few pillars remained along with platforms inside. She cocked her head to the side. "Think this is it?" she asked her silent partner who simply gave her incredulous look before heading downhill.

Once they entered the temple proper Yang could easily recognize the miniature figures standing upon the pedestals from the nighs with her family when she was younger. It seemed like she was not the only one. "Chess pieces?" asked her raven-haired companion. Yang cast a quick look around. "Some of them are missing. Looks like we weren't the first ones here," she concluded and her companion just shrugged in return, "Well, I guess we should pick one."

"Hmmm…"

Yang was way ahead of her, one-piece already caught her eye and she picked it after a moment of thought, "How about a cute little pony." Her companion smirked in return, "Sure."

They finished the first part of the task, now they just had to head back to Beacon. "That wasn't too hard!" boasted Yang in a cheerful manner. The raven-haired girl was not immune to her cheerful mood even if her reply, "Well, it's not like this place is very difficult to find," was a bit more muted.

They shared a smile and Yang briefly wondered whether or not her little sister was already finished.

It took Arska a few minutes to find a better vantage point. In those minutes she had heard a lot of commotion from the direction of the ruin and regretted her choice in momentarily losing sight of it. When she looked with her scope again, the number of civilians grew. "What is this, a bloody picnic in the woods day?" she mumbled to herself in disbelief. Two girls from before have been joined by another two, a boy and a girl, who arrived with considerable noise. Not to mention the girl's rather undisciplined behaviour in Arska's opinion. She watched as the gathering grew in size as the additional children came into her field of view. She was too far away to clearly hear their conversation and could only resist the urge to shake her head in disbelief over the immature behaviour until everything changed within one second.

Unexpectedly another young woman sprinted straight out of the tree-line to Arska's left. The spear wielder was not as jarring as the beast that followed. At its peak as tall as fully upright Sentinel walker, almost twice as broad and longer than a Chimaera a massive black and white beat thundered out of the forest chasing after the girl. The moment Arska laid her eyes upon it she froze momentarily, her abused mind refused to see the subtle details, to her, it bore an unmistakable form of Brass Scorpion daemon engine. A hellspawn of Chaos that broke trough the fortified bunkers of Kasr Myrak.

The old half-forgotten memories rose to the surface, memories Arska desperately tried to keep buried because the pain these memories brought made any other injury pale in comparison. The pain of the body could be withstood unlike the pain plaguing the hear and the soul. Cadia, her home, her people gone, destroyed by their most hated enemy and consumed by the very hell they were devoted to holding back.

She remembered her youth when her father first spoke to her about the monster that desired for nothing else but to annihilate her and her brothers and sisters. Arska remembered her cry to the blood-red sky that night, _Never. _"Never," she instinctively whispered. Then came the memories of the lottery and her mustering out, the last moments with her parents whom she had never seen again. She knew it back then when she was 15 years old and she knows it with unshakeable certainty now. Arska will never see her family ever again, they died with her world just like she was left to and would have if not for the mercy of the Angels.

The memories of the planet's dying moments brought out ignited a star of scorching fury within her soul. Any other would act without restraint when blinded by frothing rage, but not her, she was Cadian and Cadian fury had been directed for millennia in a precise direction. Body acting on deeply ingrained instincts too fast for the conscious mind to reign.

The searing white beams of energy flew true, past the stunned and confused children right into the scorpion. It let out an unholy roar as it's legs melted at their joints under the sustained fusillade. It's beady crimson eyes searched for the previously unseen assailant. Arska stood up and without weakening her barrage advanced to properly finish off the beast.

Arska was meant to be Kasrkin. Her life was one of endless bloody fighting and unwavering discipline, nothing could take that from her, she wouldn't allow that.

Pyrrha could scarcely believe her eyes as the Alpha Deathstalker that was on her tail for the last few minutes writhed and screamed under the unexpected barrage. She watched as the Grimm suffered and as it's less protected joints outright melted under the searing white beams. It was crippled before it could even react to its new attacker.

The sequence of events was so fast in her mind. The Deathstalker finally caught up to her as she cleared the forest and ran out to the open ground where it wasn't slowed down by the trees. She was unexpectedly hit by one of its claws and flung away only by instinct managing to aim herself in the desired direction. As she landed Pyrrha heard the golden-haired girl sarcastically exclaim, "Great! The gang's all here! Now we can die together!" and just as the girl with red-accented black hair was about to run off with words, "Not if I can help it!" the unexpected barrage started. The Grimm was just as surprised as the students themselves. The red-caped girl even tripped and fell due to the sudden explosion of violence. Admittedly, the Deathstalker was faster to react but it was still too late, all it managed to do was to expose the legs on its right side which soon suffered the same fate and the left side.

Pyrrha and the rest of the students managed to trace the flickering beams back to their source and watched as a strangely dressed girl they have never seen before effortlessly handled a large bulky weapon and walked closer to the stricken deathstalker.

The moment the armoured girl came close enough it could barely move at all and yet it still lashed out with its pincer. It harmlessly swished through the air as the intended target moved past it and jumped onto the armoured carapace of the body with a burst of speed, firing point-blank into the deathstalkers eyes. The girl did not stop on top of the carapace and when it tried to hit her with its stinger she jumped away landing in a roll and leaving a single black grenade behind, stuck firmly to the hardened carapace. The deathstalker tried to shuffle around on the few remaining legs but it was stopped short by grenade blast tearing a ragged hole in its body.

The ravaged carcass of the deathstalker sagged to the ground and for a brief moment, everything seemed calm and peaceful. The young huntsmen and huntresses-in-training tried to make sense of what they just saw and recall a name to the face of the girl. The girl in question did not even seem to think about joining the group and instead watched the Grimm remains disappear. Pyrrha tuned out the lively conversation that broke out, arguing about the kill and so, instead she watched the girl more closely.

At first glance, she appeared rather dishevelled and dirty, mud and dirt all over her. Her hair was no exception to it, the entire shoulder length of ashen hair had been turned earthly brown by the clumps of mud sticking to it. Pyrrha caught only a few fleeting glances at her face during the fight with the strange purple eyes that seemed to glow being the most outstanding feature. Before Pyrrha could examine the girl's outfit another terrifying screech froze the blood of everyone and firmly ended the argument happening around Pyrrha. In the heat of the moment they all forgot one crucial fact, the deathstalker was not the only elder Grimm in the area. The nevermore came back to avenge it's fallen kin, with a single move of it's wings it unleashed a deadly barrage of feathers.

"Watch out," Pyrrha cried out. It was possible the girl heard her or she heard the nevermore, Pyrrha did not know which, but she spun around trying to bring the nevermore into her crosshairs. As Pyrrha ducked to avoid a feather flying in her direction she saw the girl being thrown off balance by one of the feathers hitting her armour chest plate sending her aim wide. Most of the beams flew harmlessly through the empty air, few all but obliterated various trees or shrubbery they hit and scarce few did nothing more than anger the massive nevermore even more.

It was clear to anyone watching her that the girl only stood up with great difficulties and seemingly short of breath but there was nothing anyone could do, the nevermore was all but immune to their weapons and far too high for melee attacks, not to mention the forest of feather sticking out of the ground and limiting mobility. The girl did not seem to take that into mind when she fired her bulky weapon with one-handed, the other tenderly nursing the place where the feather impacted. Despite the vast majority of the shots missing the volume of fire was so high that the nevermore had to react before it would be too late for it.

With growing dread, Pyrrha watched as the Nevermore dived for the second and final strike. Like the others, she shouted for the girl to duck, run, to do something and not to stay in the open but it was quickly clear to Pyrrha that the girl was ignoring them. She didn't even hold her injury anymore because both her hands were full. She kept firing the bulky gun slung on a strap over her shoulder and with the hand away from her injury held a bundle of something Pyrrha could not see. To top it all off the girl slowly walked towards the hurling Nevermore! It was utter and complete madness in Pyrrha's mind.

Pyrrha could not stand by and watch the Nevermore swallow the girl whole, she had to save her. She ran before she fully realised it, still shouting on top of her lungs and desperately trying to push the girl with her semblance but despite the no doubt heavy armour the girl wore nothing happened. Both Grimm and the girl were unflinchingly heading to the inevitable grizzly outcome and Pyrrha realised there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it. It was too late.

"Noooooo….."

A red blur zipped past Pyrrha but it was too late now, nevermore already reached it's target and was rising to the skies, safely out of harm. Pyrrha stopped and collapsed on the ground. The red-caped girl was also lying on the ground a few meters away from where the girl stood not a moment ago. Pyrrha wanted to cry, she remembered Ozpin telling them that it was not unexpected to die during the initiation but she had never believed it, not until now with seeing it with her own eyes.

She wanted to break down and cry but the horrific screech of the accursed nevermore shook the entire forest. Just as it circled back in order to attack again something drew it's attention away and with muffled crackling sound the entire belly of the nevermore exploded outwards showering large parts of the forest in the rain of Grimm matter and the now dying ravaged carcass of plunged lifelessly to the ground below.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

* * *

There comes a time in the life of every single Son of Russ when he wakes up in a highly particular state of mind, a sort of natural law. Confused, bewildered, hungry and with mother of all headaches. That is how membership in Vlka Fenryka begins, no matter what Speakers of the Dead claim. But such a state of mind should not reappear at any later stage of Sky Warrior's life, which was another reason for the bewilderment of one jarl, Thyr Skjaldsson, called "Jaktfalken" by his brothers. Master of the Wyrd-stalkers great company was not pleased with the state of his mind.

Despite the unflinching belief that a Dreadnought tried dancing within his head, he opened his eyes with grit teeth. First thing Thyr noticed was his garments or more precisely the lack of familiar weight of his Runic power armour and the fact that he was wearing some sort of habit few sizes a bit too small. It made him uncomfortable especially with glaring disappearance of his weapons. It was not so much about the perceived vulnerability, more of a reluctance of having to explain their loss to the Priests of Iron. His last memories didn't point out any sort of threat whatsoever and he was at a loss of how did he end up in such a situation.

Thyr carefully examined the room around him with a critical eye. It was not overly large by standards of unaugmented humans. It was illuminated by a single lamp hanging from an uneven rocky ceiling casting half of the room into shadows. Three walls were clearly cut into the bedrock and judging by the humidity of the air the room was located well below ground. The fourth wall was constructed out of metal and strange sort of material with doors serving as a single point of entry. To Thyr's eyes, the material appeared as a sort of mineral foam.

Apart from the bed upon which he lay there was not a single piece of furniture which pointed to the same conclusion as the missing means of opening the door. This was a cell and he was meant to be a prisoner. The mere thought caused Thyr to smile, there was going to be so much fun. He stood up from the bed as it groaned underneath him and slowly warmed up his muscles. It must have been a while since he last moved. There were traces of least a dozen distinct smells some more prominent than others, it meant only a small group of people tended to check upon him. They smelled human, most likely had some pets. It certainly smelled like That accursed Gyrinx.

Thanks to the lack of any eyesores and his unshackled state it was fairly easy to guess that the Ecclesiarchy was out. Same for other Chapters, the room was not made with Astartes in mind. The distinct ozone smell of the Warpcraft was absent, suggesting the likely absence of cultists as well. Thyr worked down his mental list, unwilling to make his move until he knew all the pieces on the board, the possible options he was left with were Inquisition or Eldar. That minuscule Xenos gathering from the Damocles Gulf was not even worth considering.

After a few minutes of fruitful hands-on examination full of contradictory and confusing findings he picked up commotion from behind the door, to his ears, it sounded like footsteps and soon after the door opened with a loud clanking noise. Thyr took a first look at his supposed jailer and was both surprised and unimpressed. The jailer was a sun-kissed young woman with complexion reminisced of Tallaran native, he was never quite sure with non-Fenrisian ages, without any outward signs of affiliation to any known organisation. The seeming captor wore loose blue-white clothing along with crimson cape depicting a white emblem passably similar to the heraldry of Russ. Behind her cowered another, a slip of a girl, but Thyr paid her only a minuscule portion of his attention.

What caught his attention however were certain attributes shared by both women. They both had something extra, while otherwise appearing wholly human. The first, had sizeable feline ears sticking out from her hair and the second sported a white large tail with a grey tip which she clutched tightly and tried to hide behind. Thyr eloquently summed up the newly developed situation with a single word, "Skitja." 'This might prove much more exciting than previously estimated,' he thought to himself.

* * *

**AN: Well, there you have it. A first proper chapter that is not a glorified teaser the Prologue was. It may seem a bit fast and abrupt beginning but I did not want to spend far too many chapters setting it up and yet I try to keep it reasonably paced, this is the outcome. I hope it is up to your taste. Both MC are my own OCs. In the case of the Jarl, he is HQ unit for my SW Great Company with his own backstory. Both will be fleshed out down the line.  
Take this as a sort of a gift since I managed to get myself rid of the evil called _Theory of Law semester finals._ My own gift to myself were the Mark III marines and to you was the kick in my arse to make this chapter publishable. **

**Just to let you know, both OCs are hard pragmatists so if you were looking forward to the memetic fanatics then you will be disappointed. Another thing to let you know is that while I keep a creative right for myself to bring in more 40K people somewhere down the line (not planned as of now) they will never exceed single-digit count. I will try to keep both Fandoms rightfully represented.**

**Until next time.**


End file.
